


Bert and Ernie Make It Look So Easy

by TasteTheRainbow



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheRainbow/pseuds/TasteTheRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Jensen, sex with Jared has never been difficult. Living with him, however, is going to take a little work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bert and Ernie Make It Look So Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_j2_xmas exchange.

So Jensen has this job that he loves and his life is pretty good. Also, he's sort of dating his co-star, and Jared is cool, so that's a plus. 

Alright, Jared's a good guy with great hands and a phenomenal body that does some truly amazing things. It's better than a plus. There's a possibility that Jensen might be crafting sonnets about Jared in the back of his head when he's supposed to be memorizing lines. 

The point is that things are going well. He's got a stable career and an almost relationship with a guy that doesn't make him want to claw his own eyeballs out; it's better than he can say about the last ten years or so. He's not going to be winning an Emmy any time soon and he's not exactly holding hands with Jared and hosting sleepovers or anything but it's working.

His momma's been teasing him for years about putting down roots in Canada. She claims that a.) he's been working there for approximately half of his professional career anyway and, b.) he seems to like it more than he's ever liked Los Angeles. Now that he's with Jared, it seems more convenient anyway. 

If they were going to get married and adopt some kids or something, Jensen would agree. He likes to keep his options open, though, if it's all the same to everyone else.

He really isn't expecting anything more than an interested shrug from Jared when he tells him that he's going to have to find a new place to live. He's not angling for anything, just making conversation. The place he's been renting is for sale, and he's going to have to move. It's just mindless fodder.

“Can always move in with me,” Jared offers, distracted by something on his phone.

Jensen absolutely does not flail and stutter in his seat. Well, he does but not on the outside. “What?”

Looking up from his phone, Jared smiles all free and easy. “I've got extra space. You need a place.”

He thinks about it for a second, but there's really not much to consider. Staying at his pseudo-boyfriend's place is better than sleeping in his truck. “Just until I find something else,” he concedes with a determined nod.

Jared's smile is blinding. “Yeah, of course. As long as you need, man.”

*

On move-in day, Jensen shows up at Jared's place at three minutes to eight, right on schedule. It's far too fucking early for him to be awake on a day off but the sooner Jared shows him to his room, the sooner Jensen can fall face-first onto his bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

When Jared throws the door open, he's wearing pajama pants and an old, threadbare tee shirt. He looks over Jensen's suitcase and duffel bag and then back to Jensen's face. “Where's your stuff?” He cranes his head out the door to look at the truck and then back to Jensen again. “That's all you brought?”

Jensen shrugs and pushes past him, into the foyer that he's seen plenty of times but never considered home, and props his bag against the table. “Figure I won't be here for long,” he explains, hating himself a little for the way Jared's face falls. Maybe he should have loaded it all up, instead of putting it in storage, just so Jared could be smiling right now.

They work together and fuck around when they have the time or they're a little drunk. They've never actually been on a date before so Jensen has a hard time committing to living with the guy for the rest of forever at this point.

He feels a bit better when he says, “Thanks, Jared, for bailing me out,” and Jared's smile brightens his face again. 

“Well, if that's all you've got,” he says, stalking toward Jensen until he's backed up against the door, “I guess that leaves us time for other stuff.”

Jensen wants to whine that he's tired or, at the very least, that he needs coffee. Then Jared catches Jensen's bottom lip between his teeth and pulls just enough to make Jensen whimper in a very manly fashion and he forgets all about everything.

He thinks about saying something but Jared slides a hand down the back of his track pants and squeezes his ass while dipping his head to kiss Jensen's throat. “ _Jesus._ ” He tries one more time to think of something witty or brilliant to say but he gives up when Jared starts backing him toward the stairs.

They stumble over each other and knock into the railing before Jensen manages to rip Jared's shirt over his head. “Never gonna get anything done,” Jared breathes against his sternum, “you bein' here all the time.” He bites at Jensen's nipple and smirks when he arches into it. “Fuck. Get your pants off.”

Jensen tries to help but they just end up tripping over each other and tumbling to the floor between the living room and the entry. It doesn't really matter to Jensen where they do this because they're naked and rutting against each other, lips giving way to tongues and teeth as they claw and nip at whatever skin they can reach. 

Regardless of his former reservations, Jensen’s now thinking this cohabitation thing may turn out alright after all. When Jared pins his arms over his head and grinds his thigh against Jensen's painfully hard cock, Jensen thinks he might die. It's not the only reason he's glad he met Jared, but it definitely doesn't hurt or anything. 

“You gonna come before I get a chance to fuck you?” Jared asks, breath hot against the side of Jensen's neck. “Gonna shoot off like a fuckin' high school kid 'fore I even get a finger in your tight little ass? You that desperate for it, huh?” He releases one of Jensen's hands and digs his fingers into his ass cheek hard enough to leave bruises.

Jensen's not small by most people's standards so he's never really had to worry about whether or not he liked being manhandled. Jared loves to push him around, squeezing and shoving and biting him until he gets Jensen in exactly the position he wants him. Turns out, Jensen doesn't so much hate it; he finds it’s the hottest thing anyone's ever done. 

“Oh, God,” he chokes, hip popping up off of the floor when Jared wraps his hand around both of their cocks and gives them a couple of rough pulls. That's all it takes and Jensen comes way too fast while Jared's tongue laves the hollow of his throat and he continues stroking both of them until he finishes himself off, as well.

Sweaty and boneless, they lay side by side, blinking at the ceiling and gasping for air. “Fuck, now I don't wanna unpack. I just wanna.” He breaks off with a laugh, rolling his head toward Jared to steal a quick kiss. “Wanna take a nap.”

Gasping a little and licking his lips before he meets Jensen's eye, Jared smiles. “Bedroom?” He looks at Jensen with dark eyes that almost make Jensen wish they had thought of this arrangement much, much sooner. “We have time and everything, right?”

They manage to make it to the bed before Jared is pawing at Jensen's ass again and Jensen is scratching marks into his back and chest. 

So it's not permanent or anything – Jensen will start looking for a place of his own as soon as he can – but hanging out at Jared's for awhile won't be the worst thing in the world.

*

“What time's your alarm goin' off?” Jensen asks, slipping into bed beside Jared. It's the first time they've actually _slept_ together so it's kind of strange. Jared did give him the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he looked like a puppy about to be left behind while his family goes on vacation so Jensen didn't object to sharing a room.

The thing is, they like each other – that's not exactly shocking to anyone who knows them – but they don't call this thing a relationship or whatever. They don't have a lot of spare time for dating so their hook ups have been somewhat limited. Sometimes, the tension on set is too much so they'll ease it in one of their trailers. Once in awhile, they manage to make it back to one house or the other after hanging out at a bar, but they always head out to sleep in their own beds at the end of the night.

Jared shakes his head, bare legs crossed at his ankles as he flips through the channels on the television at the end of his bed. “I don't usually set one,” he answers.

With a chuckle, Jensen lays back and considers Jared's words. “Which is why you never end up anywhere on time.”

Flicking another three channels without stopping to see what's on any of them, Jared says, “Man, I have a perfect internal clock.” He flips Jensen off and then turns his attention back to the television.

“Whatever,” is all Jensen says, pulling the sheet up to his waist before rolling onto his left side, back to Jared.

Finally, Jared decides on the Food Network and Jensen tries to ignore the low din of Iron Chef America. It's not very loud and it's been a long day, what with all of the sex they ended up having in virtually every room of the house, so he's probably going to be falling asleep soon anyway. 

When Jared settles down on his side, flinging an arm over Jensen's waist, the television is still on in the background, the blue light flooding the room with an eerie glow. “Night,” Jared breathes against the base of his neck.

Jensen tries – really, he _tries_ – but he's not going to fall asleep like this. “Jared?” The only response is mumbled against his skin. “The tv's still on.” Another muffled response. “You're not watching it anymore, right?”

“I like the background noise when I sleep,” Jared answers, finally pulling his face away from Jensen enough to be understood.

“Oh,” Jensen says. He can't really sleep with any background noise at all, and the light from the TV isn't helping anything, either. “What about the radio?” he offers in compromise.

Rolling away, Jared flops onto his back. “It's really gonna drive you nuts, huh?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Jensen admits, feeling like an ass for telling the guy how to sleep in his own bedroom. “I can go to the guest room.”

Jared chuckles a little and shakes his head. “Nah. I do occasionally sleep without it.” He reaches for the remote and rubs his thumb over the power button. “I'm gonna go do some reps. Try to wear myself out first.”

It's obvious that he's rattled by the suggestion – or possibly just from the change to his normal routine – so Jensen tilts his head and grabs his wrist before he can get out of the bed. “How 'bout you turn it off and I'll wear you out instead?”

“Yeah?” Jared kills the power as Jensen nods. “I can deal with that,” he agrees, shimmying out of his boxer briefs and letting his knees fall open.

Jensen settles between them and smiles up at Jared with a wink. “Relax.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jared grabs the back of Jensen’s neck and says, “Shut up and suck my dick.”

Inwardly shrugging, Jensen figures this is only temporary and if he has to fuck Jared to sleep every night while he's staying here, well, he's endured worse.

*

Jensen is not a fan of mornings. Being as Jared has already worked with him for three seasons, he figures he already knows this. Jensen is cranky and grouchy and generally unpleasant until he has coffee and time to remember that life doesn't suck as much as 7 am call times do.

He did think, on the way to Jared's house, that waking up maybe wouldn't suck as much if there was a nice, sleep-warmed body to lazily rub up against when the alarm went off. He may not like mornings but Jensen thinks he could become a fan of morning sex, because waking up next to Jared is going to make it hard to resist. 

The only problem is that, when Jensen wakes up, Jared's side of the bed is empty. Jensen purposely set his alarm an hour early to give them time to grope and fondle each other before he had to jump in the shower and now Jared isn't here. As far as Jensen is concerned, this is unacceptable.

The smell of brewing coffee and eggs causes him to scrub a hand over his face. He's not a breakfast guy – cup of coffee and a power bar on the way to work is good enough for him – so the smell of eggs makes him a little nauseous. Combined with the fact that he woke up alone and the terrible off-key singing Jared is doing in the kitchen, he's ready to throw something against the wall, possibly himself.

The sounds and smells of the shower will drown out whatever Jared is doing, so Jensen rolls out of bed with a grunt and takes a second to find his feet. His legs are sore, his arms and chest bruised and scratched and marked in a way that's going to stick with him for awhile. Grouchy as he feels, he can't help smiling as his fingers trace the faint red outline of Jared's teeth on his belly. 

The hot water helps him to unwind, settles his stomach, and makes things seem a little better all around. By the time Jared steps into the shower behind him, sweaty and hot from running with the dogs, Jensen's almost in a good mood. 

He blinks the water out of his eyes and leans forward, fingers groping for Jared's hips but Jared just sidesteps and grabs his shampoo from the other caddy in the opposite corner of the shower. “Come on, man. We're gonna be late.”

There's no way they're going to be late – Jensen's alarm said it was four thirty when he rolled out of bed. “We've got time,” he insists, leaning in again, only to be brushed off as Jared shakes his hair under the water. 

It doesn't really seem worth arguing about at the moment so Jensen finishes up and steps out before Jared is done. Maybe yesterday was too much for him. Before, they were hooking up a couple of times a week, if they could find the time. Yesterday, they found four times. Maybe Jared's cock is sore or something. Jensen forces himself out of the bathroom before he offers to massage it for him. 

He doesn't see Jared again until almost an hour later. Jensen quells the urge to ask him what in the hell took so long while he's chugging back his second cup of coffee. He's already emptied the leftover eggs, bacon, and biscuits into the garbage, and hand-washed the pans Jared used to fix it all. Now he's working on the paper and munching on a toasted bagel.

“How was breakfast?” Jared asks, looking far more fresh-faced than any human being has a right to at six o'clock in the morning.

Jensen swallows the bite in his mouth and nods with a reassuring smile. “It's good.”

“Wow. You ate biscuits and a bagel? That's a lotta carbs for you,” Jared comments, making his way to the refrigerator to grab the giant water bottle that he always takes to the set with him.

There's a crack about watching their figures in there somewhere but Jensen doesn't make it. There's also the truth about how he scraped all of Jared's breakfast, the one he got up early to make for Jensen, into the trash because it made him sick to look at it. He doesn't say that, either. It seems cruel when Jared is looking so happy.

“Stunts today,” Jensen smiles, hoping that it looks more natural than it actually is. “Figure I'll burn 'em off soon enough.”

He only feels a little guilty when Jared agrees and calls the dogs, leashes in his hand. “I'm gonna let them out one more time before the car gets here,” he announces.

Jensen sits on the stool at the counter, feeling really out of place in Jared's house for the first time. He knows his way around this kitchen and used to walk through the front door and flop down on the couch without an invitation all the time. Now that he actually has some of his things in the guest room closet and upstairs, in Jared's bathroom, it's weird. 

Maybe he should be doing something but he doesn't know what. The car will be here in a few minutes, so he doesn't exactly have time to bust out the vacuum cleaner or anything. 

They make it out of the house, dogs in tow, and pile into the SUV. 

This is when Jared turns to Jensen and says, “Sorry about this morning, man,” loud enough for everyone in the vehicle to hear. Granted, their driver is the only other person in the vehicle – the dogs don't appear to be listening – but Jensen still cringes a little. “I was all sweaty and nasty from my run. My mind's usually spinning in too many directions before work to be focused on the sex, ya know?”

He can't prove it but Jensen's pretty sure the driver is smirking. Harley might be, too. 

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbles, drinking from his third cup of coffee. 

Jared's hand lands heavy on his thigh and, when Jensen looks at him, he's got that damned wounded expression on his face again. “You know it's not you, right?”

“Man, of course,” he snaps and then sighs. “Yeah, I get it, okay? It's just. Can we maybe have this conversation later?” His eyes dart to the front of the car and then back to Jared.

“Sorry. I'm not used to, uh, censoring myself with you.” Jared rakes his fingers through his hair and lets out a short laugh. “It's gonna take some adjusting, huh?”

It's nobody's fault. Jensen feels bad enough throwing Jared's whole house and schedule into upheaval, and he doesn't want Jared feeling guilty about stupid things on top of it. “Yeah, but I mean,” he shakes his head and takes another drink of his coffee, “It's not permanent, right? I'm gonna start lookin' at a few places on our first off day so maybe it won't throw us off too much.”

Jared doesn't say anything to that, just watches the highway passing out the window and keeps his hand on Jensen's leg. Jensen can't help feeling like he said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know what that might be. It's nothing different than what he's been saying all along.

*

By the time they finish up in hair and make-up, everything is back to normal. People know they're living together now because everyone knows everything about everyone around here but it's not a big deal. Jared is exactly the same as he's always been at work and Jensen is happy to follow his lead.

A few of the crew guys want to grab a drink when they wrap so Jared hands his house key to one of the PAs who lives close to him and asks her to drop the dogs off for him. She smiles and nods, like she's done it a thousand times, and Jared gives her an appreciative hug before jogging back over to Jensen's side.

“Ready to go?” he asks, all smiles and groping limbs.

Jensen nods and watches while his brain catches up to what's going on. “Does she actually go in when she drops your dogs off?” It's never mattered to Jensen before but his stuff has never been in Jared's house before, either.

Shrugging, Jared climbs into the back of a car; Jensen thinks it belongs to one of the lighting guys even though there's no one in the driver's seat yet. “She makes sure they have food and that they're not freaking out about anything, so yeah? I guess. I mean, I would assume she has to go into the kitchen to feed them.”

Jensen sinks into the seat beside Jared and worries his thumbnail between his teeth. “You think she'll wonder why my stuff is there?”

“Dude, everybody knows you're stayin' with me. Why would she wonder?” Jared's looking at him like he's lost his mind. “What? Do you want me to call her and tell her to leave them in the backyard? We can grab a drink and then go home and feed them if it makes you that uncomfortable.”

Alright, so maybe Jared has a right to be pissed. It's his house, after all. Jensen is just his guest so there's no reason for him to question Jared's judgment on this. Obviously, he's done it before. Jensen doesn't even know why it bothers him.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, of course not. Forget it.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Long day, I guess.”

The others are piling into the car and playing musical chairs until they find a suitable seating arrangement. Jared keeps looking at him sideways; Jensen can feel it, but he keeps his gaze pointedly fixed out the window and tells himself it's stupid and he should just stop worrying.

*

By the time they get home, Jensen is drunk enough not to care about any and every thing that bothered him throughout the day. All that really matters is the way Jared is crowding against his back and pushing his hips in the direction of the living room.

Somehow, they manage to avoid tripping over the dogs and their own feet to land in a graceless pile on the couch. Jensen's elbow is stuck between the back and the bottom cushion and Jared's knee is pressed against the back of his thigh, but it’s not the most uncomfortable position he's ever found himself in during sex so he doesn't complain.

Against his ear, Jared breathes, “God, Jensen, wanna fuck you,” and everything else pretty much pales in comparison to that anyway.

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, licking his lips and fighting to free his arm from the couch. 

Jared stands long enough to do something Jensen can't see – he's either less drunk or just better at it than Jensen – and then he's back, broad hand stretched flat between Jensen's shoulders. “Don't move,” he commands, reaching around to unzip Jensen's jeans and yank them over his hips. 

He doesn't even get a chance to kick his pants off before Jared is pushing and pulling and generally manhandling him all over the place while spilling a steady stream of filth about what he's going to do and how hard he's going to do it. Jensen just whimpers and arches and does whatever Jared tells him to because it's kind of ridiculously hot and, if he tries to move too fast on his own, he might pass out and miss the entire event.

Jensen must not have been paying attention to the part where Jared said he was going to lick him open because it startles him a little to feel his tongue running hot around his rim. “ _Fuck,_ ” he hisses, lurching forward a little bit in surprise. Jared just pulls him back and chuckles as he continues to drag the point of his tongue over Jensen's hole. 

It's hard to stay upright, to hold himself on his forearms without collapsing, but Jensen strains until he feels the sweat forming on his chest and his face. It's worth it when Jared starts to lazily work his tongue inside like he's got all the time in the world. Jensen's cock is starting to ache but he knows better than to touch. He tells himself that the anticipation makes it better, as though he can trick his dick into thinking this is for their own good or something.

“C'mon, Jared,” he begs, clutching at the arm of the couch as he writhes back against Jared's mouth. 

Instead of fucking him, like Jared said he was going to, though, he slides a hand over Jensen's hip and wraps his strong fingers around Jensen's cock in a firm fist, stroking him in time with the roll of his tongue. Jensen figures there's no point in trying to pretend he's anything but completely gone, moaning and writhing and begging for more as Jared works him over with a dirty little chuckle that vibrates all the way to Jensen's toes.

If he wasn't drunk off his ass, he would be embarrassed at how ridiculously nonexistent his stamina is right now. Instead, Jensen drapes his arms over the side of the couch and just gives in to anything Jared might want to do to him. “ _Fuck_ ,” is all he can manage to say, voice drawling long and low from his throat when Jared sinks his teeth into Jensen's ass cheek and squeezes his hand around his cock. 

“Turn over,” Jared instructs roughly, releasing Jensen's cock long enough to shove his hips until Jensen flops over and slumps against the couch. 

Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the awesome euphoria of having Jared's hand wrapped around his cock but when Jensen opens his eyes and sees Jared grinning at him with amusement, like he's remembering a joke that he hasn't heard in years, he thinks he could get used to this. Maybe he should stop dancing around the commitment issue and just let this be as great as he's pretty sure it could be.

Jared doesn't give him a lot of time for contemplation, kneeling against the couch with one knee while keeping the other foot on the floor for balance. His pants are open, shoved down below his ass, his cock hard and curved toward his belly when he reaches for Jensen's again. He's muttering things under his breath - _not gonna last_ and _too fucking hot_ \- and Jensen can't think about anything other than the way he's about to explode.

When Jensen comes, head pressed back against the arm of the couch, he shouts something completely incoherent that he hopes conveys ' _You are the god of all things related to cock and orgasms_.' 

Falling forward, Jared ruts against Jensen's hip, his teeth in Jensen's shoulder muffling the sound of the growl rumbling through his chest and throat as he comes. Panting against Jensen's neck, he manages to say, “You're amazing,” before flopping back to the opposite end of the couch. 

He should tell Jared that he feels the same, that Jared is pretty damn amazing himself. Instead, he passes out.

*  
“Well, if it isn't Jensen Ackles,” a sweet voice sounds over his shoulder as he's enjoying the familiar LA sunshine on a rare weekend off. 

He looks up from the housing ads he's perusing on his phone to find Danneel smiling back at him, her hair blowing and her chest flushed as she rushes to the table and drops into her chair dramatically. “I told you I would be here,” he reminds her.

With a roll of her eyes, Danneel sips from the water glass he ordered for her and situates herself before she says, “Yeah, but you moved in with your boyfriend, man. You're all married and stuff now.”

“I didn't move in with him,” Jensen corrects automatically. He really doesn't mean to sound so repulsed by the idea but even he can admit that it kind of comes out that way. “I'm staying there until I can figure out a more permanent solution.” Flipping his phone around, he shows her the face. “See, I'm researching as we speak.”

Danneel leans forward on her elbows, her face curious. “You're serious, aren't you?”

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Jensen takes a drink of his coffee and folds his arms across his chest. “Even if I wasn't thinking about it before, the last week has opened my eyes to just how not right for each other we really are.”

This time, she laughs. Outright, as though Jensen is the funniest comedian she's ever heard. She smiles at the waiter who brings her coffee and then looks back at Jensen. “You guys are perfect for each other,” she corrects.

“I have about a thousand pieces of evidence to the contrary,” he rebuts.

“Like what?”

“Trust me, there is a laundry list.”

Danneel rolls her eyes and leans forward on her elbows, amused smirk on her lips. “Jensen, he is the best guy you have ever dated. Seriously, I'm surprised he doesn't try to sell me Cub Scouts popcorn when I come to visit. What could Jared possibly do that is such a deal breaker for you?”

The problem, of course, is that Danneel is right, at least partially. Jared is the best guy Jensen has ever dated. But she doesn't know the full story. “You wouldn't understand.”

With a pointed look, the one that says she's tired of playing this game and would very much like to beat him over the head with her over-sized purse, she says, “Try me.”

Jensen sighs heavily and rubs a hand over his face. “He sleeps with the television on. He lets people in the house when we're not there. Oh, he's a breakfast person?” Once he starts naming Jared's faults, it's like the words won't stop coming. “You should see the way he folds his towels, all haphazard and wrong. His dishes are in the cabinet furthest from the dining room – who does that?” With a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, agitation growing with each listed offense. “Danneel, he irons his tee shirts, for fuck's sake! His television is hanging on the wrong wall in the living room.” She opens her mouth but Jensen holds up a finger, eyes wide like she hasn't heard the worst of it. “He sits in my spot on the couch when we watch TV.”

“Your spot?” With a skeptical eyebrow, Danneel asks, “Who are you? Sheldon Cooper?”

“Funny. That's cute. Go ahead,” Jensen tells her, leaning forward to catch his head in his hand. “Mock my pain.”

In the way only she can, Danneel leans forward and swats at the back of his head. “You are such a selfish dickhead.”

Jensen looks up long enough to give her a blank look, deadpan. “I'm so glad I made this trip to see you.”

“You moved into his house, Jensen – the one he pays for – and now you want everything your way? That's fucked up.”

“That's why I'm looking for a new place,” he argues, sitting up again. He's pretty sure there was a time when he actually enjoyed hanging out with her and didn't turn everything into an emo bitchfest. 

“Jensen,” she says, hand falling against his on the table. 

There's a look in her eye, the one that says she wants to tell him that she's concerned or thinks he's about to fuck everything all up, but Jensen isn't in the mood to hear it right now. “Can we just, I don't know, talk about you for awhile and stop psychoanalyzing me?”

“Yeah,” she nods, tongue running along her lower lip. “Just do me a favor okay?” She waits for him to nod before she goes on. “When you get back to Vancouver, get a hotel and make a clean break from Jared. He's a good guy, Jensen. He doesn't deserve the way you keep stringing him along.”

He wants to argue that he's not stringing Jared along at all, he really likes the guy, and he's not remotely interested in making a clean break. Still, her words conjure up images of the few times Jensen has mentioned moving out during the last week, and he can't help remembering the way Jared flinches or nods without seeming very enthusiastic about it. 

*

The flight home gets delayed three times and by the time Jensen walks in the back door, he's grouchy and exhausted. He's spent the last two days thinking about what Danneel said at lunch and wondering if she's right. Almost everything about Jared is amazing, but Jensen just isn't sure he can get over the things that aren't. He's not sure he should have to change his own preferences just to fit with someone else.

Jared isn't home when Jensen crashes, face first, to the bed and falls into a fitful sleep riddled with weird dreams that involve ice cream cones, masked men, and turtles. 

When he wakes up a few hours later, it's to a familiar aroma that momentarily causes him to fear that his mother might have stopped in for a visit. It's warm and inviting, like the chili she used to make on weekends in the winter. Jensen stretches against the bed and then forces himself to head down to the kitchen, tabling his fears in favor of following his watering taste buds.

Thankfully, it's not his mother standing in the kitchen but Jared, swaying his hips along with some high-octane, Southern rock rhythm while stirring something in a large stock pot on the stove. 

“What're you doin'?” Jensen asks, voice ragged and tired. 

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Jared smiles and drops the spoon onto the rest on the stove. “Hey you,” he greets easily, making his way across the room to kiss Jensen in greeting.

Caught a little off guard, Jensen grabs Jared's arms to steady himself and leans into the press of Jared's lips. Sometimes, in his haste to get on to bigger and better things, he forgets just how good a kisser Jared is; it's a shame, he should really spend more time appreciating his skills.

“Are you hungry?” Jared asks when they finally part. Jensen’s stomach answers for him with a rumbling growl, and they both laugh as Jared turns back to the stove. “Can you grab a couple of bowls?”

Jensen moves slowly, still not entirely convinced that he’s awake yet, and pulls the cabinet open. There are no dishes here, though. Just random small appliance, like Jared’s juicer and his panini press. “Where’d they go?”

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Jared looks confused for a second and then nods the opposite direction. “I moved ‘em,” he explains.

He moved them. Jared moved the dishes to the place Jensen insisted they should go. If he was more awake, he knows this would mean something. Once the haze wears off, he’ll examine what that is. For now, he just hands Jared two bowls and leans his hip against the counter to watch Jared’s profile. 

Smiling like he does this sort of thing all the time, like he’s totally at home in the kitchen, Jared dips the ladle into the pot and then hands one of the bowls to Jensen. He nods to the island, where a pile of shredded cheese sits on a plate, alongside a plastic container of sour cream and a bag of Oyster crackers. 

This doesn’t just smell like Jensen’s mom’s chili; it looks like it, too. Jensen fixes it exactly the way he used to when he was a kid, right down to pouring the crackers into his hand and crushing them in his fist before he lets them sprinkle down over the top of the chili. He barely has to swallow it before he says, “You made my mom’s chili.” 

With a dismissive shrug, Jared fills his own bowl and heads to the refrigerator to grab a couple bottles of beer. “Seem a little strung out lately. Thought you might could use a little taste of home.”

It could easily be a barb but there’s no bite to Jared’s words. It’s all genuine, the tone and the sentiment, and Jensen really doesn’t know what to do with it. Danneel was right when she said that Jensen is a selfish dick – he’s expected everything to be his way from the second he stepped through Jared’s front door – and, yet, Jared is making his favorite comfort food and doing his damnedest to make things easier for Jensen. 

Abandoning his dinner, Jensen pushes Jared's chair away from the table. 

“What? Does it suck?” Jared asks, swallowing as Jensen stands then lowers himself onto Jared’s thighs. 

Leaning forward, he braces himself against the back of Jared’s chair, the heat of his chest radiating through the thin fabric of both of their tee shirts. It takes everything Jensen has not to grind down when Jared’s hands squeeze his waist. Instead, he leans forward and says, “You’re kind of unbelievable,” against Jared’s throat.

Jared just hums in response, tilting his head to the side while Jensen runs his open mouth, breath hot and wet, down his neck. His fingers flex against Jensen’s legs, the kind of gesture that would normally mean _quit teasing and just do it already_. “Missed you,” is what he manages to groan when Jensen finally rolls his hips forward.

They could talk about it. Jensen could reciprocate and then they could go upstairs and make romantic, candlelit love until the sun rises. They could talk about their feelings and commitment and their plans for the future.

“How much do you like this chair?” he asks against Jared’s ear.

“Huh?” is all Jared manages between kisses so deep Jensen’s pretty sure Jared’s going to get lost in his mouth.

Tearing himself away long enough to draw a jagged breath, Jensen rests his forehead against Jared’s and grinds his hips down until he can feel the outline of Jared’s dick through his jeans. “Wanna ride you. Want you to fuck me so hard, Jared,” he begs, a touch of a pleading whine in his voice as he hooks one hand around the back of Jared’s neck. “Hard enough to break this damn chair,” he clarifies.

Jared’s eyes blow wide as he leans back and then stands, nearly dumping Jensen into the floor.

For a minute, Jensen thinks they’re going upstairs but Jared heads into the living room. By the time Jensen catches up, he nearly trips over Jared’s pants in the doorway and then he almost gets tangled in his own feet at the sight of Jared on the couch, casually stroking his cock, hard and curved as it disappears into the grip of his fist.

Instead of stopping to consider just how hot Jared looks, Jensen drops his jeans to the floor and kicks out of his boxer briefs before straddling Jared's thighs again. Leaning in to grab the back of the couch on either side of Jared's head, Jensen brushes his nose against the curve of Jared's jaw and moans when he grinds his bare cock down against Jared's. 

The thing is, Jensen wants Jared – pretty much all the time, it seems – but this is more than want. This is need, curling low in his belly and rising up to his chest, squeezing until it's almost hard to breathe. It catches in his throat when Jared shifts and Jensen feels the wet head of his cock sliding over Jensen's hole, making him desperate enough to beg.

“Please,” he pants, thrusting his ass back until he feels the hard line of it against his ass. “God, Jared, just wanna - _fuck_ \- let me, please.”

Jared doesn't say anything, just pulls a bottle of lube from between the couch cushions and slicks his fingers. There's not a lot of finesse in his touch when he slides two into Jensen and then adds a third, panting as Jensen groans and rocks against his touch. 

It's unusual, Jared being this quiet, but Jensen is so far past the point of analyzing that he thinks his brain might actually explode if he tries to figure out why. He feels like he's outside of himself, teetering on the edge of flying apart if Jared doesn't hurry up and fuck him soon. It's not even something they do often but Jensen feels like his seams are going to start unraveling if they don't do it right now.

“C'mon,” he pleads against Jared's neck, one hand tangled in his hair while he balances himself on his knees and waits for Jared to nudge his hip back down. “God, gotta feel it, Jared. Gotta fuckin' feel you. Need it. Now, gotta have it.” The head stretches his rim and Jensen bites the junction of Jared's neck to muffle the sob that's threatening to tear his throat out. “Fuck, yeah,” he manages as he slides back, taking Jared in until it's all he can think about, all he can feel. 

Usually, Jared tells him that he looks good like this, that he's so hot and he feels so good and all those other things that porn teaches somebody they're supposed to say to fill the empty silence. This time, he just watches, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed like he's trying to see through Jensen instead of just looking at him. It's unnerving and, more than that, it's something that they've never really been with each other. Blow jobs that would make a professional blush and rim jobs that melt Jensen's brain are commonplace and normal, but Jared holding him in place and staring at Jensen with this intensity that Jensen can't help but return is not. It's everything Jensen has been avoiding since long before he moved a few things into Jared's house. It's not unsettling; it's terrifying. It's intimate.

Jensen doesn't even know if the sound of his blood pounding in his ears is from the growing need to get off or from the fear that, when he does, there's going to be more to clean up than some sweat and come. All he does know is that Jared is barely moving, barely smiling, and it's too much. 

He says what Jared won't, needing to fill in the silences with incoherent words that will take his mind off of his thoughts, fingers pulling on Jared's hair until his head falls back and he can't stare at Jensen with that maddening look anymore. He doesn't even know what he's saying – dirty, filthy things that he doesn't often _think_ , let alone say – but it doesn't matter, not until he says, “C'mon, Jared, fuck me like you mean it,” against the soft skin of his throat.

It happens quickly, so quickly that Jensen isn't sure how he ends up on his back on the floor, his legs over Jared's shoulders as Jared holds himself up over Jensen's body, biceps and triceps straining and flexing as he pulls out almost all the way and then pushes his hips forward so slowly and so hard that Jensen is sure he's going to be walking crooked for the next few days.

Resting on his forearms, Jared's hands grip the sides of Jensen's head and he has no choice but to meet his gaze, head on. Jared's eyes are burning with something that Jensen can't even identify but it makes his heart pound against his ribcage hard enough that it might just burst through his chest. 

“Every fucking time,” Jared finally growls, “I mean it every goddamn time.”

With that, he sits up onto his knees and holds tight to Jensen's hips, fucking into him hard enough to bruise. It's exactly what Jensen needs, what he fears, and what he wants all rolled into one, and he's practically crying with it when he comes harder than he ever has against his own hand and Jared's stomach.

His vision is starting to black around the edges when he feels Jared slowing to pull out. Grabbing his arm, Jensen says, “Don't,” and then opens his eyes to meet Jared's. “Keep goin',” he says, arching his back from the floor and bracing himself. He doesn't know why it feels important but he needs Jared to finish inside him, to stay with him until neither of them can physically take it anymore.

It doesn't take long, a few more erratic thrusts, before Jensen feels Jared pulsing, his chest sweating and stained red with the flush of exertion. He pulls on Jared's arm until he collapses forward and, even though he weighs roughly the same as a small elephant, Jensen doesn't complain. The line of his back is slick beneath Jensen's fingers as they trail up and down the heated skin, and he knows they're going to have to move soon enough.

Something has changed – he doesn't know why or how or what the hell even – but Jensen just isn't ready to let go yet.

*

His mom's chili tastes as good at four o'clock this morning as it did when he used to eat it for breakfast, after coming home with a hangover, in high school. Jared is asleep upstairs; the house is eerily silent and Jensen knows that his alarm is going off in a half hour.

It surprises him when Jared rounds the corner, wiping sleep from his eyes, but he doesn't know why. Jensen wakes up at 4:30 every morning and Jared's never in bed next to him, but it doesn't register until he's standing there, hip leaned against the archway, looking curiously at Jensen.

“You're up early,” Jared deduces brilliantly.

With a nod, Jensen licks his spoon. “Chili's really good,” he says with a shrug.

“You don't eat breakfast.”

“Yeah, I do. Every morning. You make eggs and bacon and toast,” Jensen lets the lie trail off when Jared purses his lips and cocks his head to the side. “What?”

“You really do think I'm a giant idiot, don't you?” He's smiling enough for Jensen to know that he's teasing but it's still a tough question to answer. When he says nothing, Jared pushes off of the wall and crosses the kitchen to grab the leashes from the hook next to the back door. “If you don't want me to know you're throwing it out every morning, you should stick it in the garbage disposal, dumb ass.”

He whistles and Jensen immediately hears the rumbling thunder of both dogs careening down the hallway, their nails clicking on the tile floor in the entry before they round the corner and charge for Jared's legs.

Jensen doesn't know what to say in his defense so he just watches until they're all three out of the house and he's alone again. Why the hell would Jared keep making him breakfast every morning if he knows that Jensen just throws it away? Why wouldn't he call Jensen on it? Danneel had no trouble telling him that he's an asshole so why can't Jared do that?

He's afraid he already knows the answer so, instead of contemplating it further, he makes his way to the sink and rinses his bowl before dropping it into the dishwasher. If he goes up to lay down now, he'll never be up on time so he stares around the kitchen, grasping at anything that will take his mind off of what he doesn't want to be thinking about at the moment.

Jared made his mom's chili and rearranged the kitchen cabinets and, Jensen noticed while he was getting ready for bed earlier, he installed two shower caddies to keep their soaps and shampoos separate. Jared doesn't talk about Jensen moving out, doesn't encourage it in any way, but he's never outright asked him to stay, either. Instead, he's quietly making room in his life for Jensen, compromising wordlessly and just waiting for Jensen to pull his head out of his ass and be ready for it.

By the time Jared gets back from his run, Jensen is just pulling the eggs off of the stove, sliding them out of the skillet and onto the plate. He's not much of a cook but he figures nobody can fuck eggs up too badly and they look edible, as edible as eggs can look anyway. 

Jared stops short in the doorway and tilts his head to the side. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn't. Instead, he takes the plate Jensen offers and kisses him, pulling away before Jensen can complain about the sweat and the body odor. “Thanks, man,” he accepts, graciously.

With a shake of his head, Jensen turns for the door. “I'm gonna grab a shower,” he announces, though it's unnecessary, at best.

“Jensen?” 

He looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised.

“I called my realtor this weekend. If you wanna check out a few places on Thursday, she'll have a list ready,” Jared says, eyes fixed on the plate, though he's not doing anything more than pushing the eggs around.

Jensen nods and then stops himself, pivoting on his heel to give Jared his attention. “Thanks, man, but I think I already found a place,” he says. Jensen can't help smiling at the surprised look on his face. “I mean, it's pretty fantastic, ya know? Awesome kitchen, four bedrooms, three baths, double-headed shower in the master.” He shakes his head when Jared looks up, trying so damn hard not to look hopeful that Jensen almost wants to go hug him or something. “I mean, I'd have to share it with this roommate who gets on my last nerve sometimes but, I don't know. I think it's worth it.”

Pushing away from the table, Jared crosses his arms over his chest. “You mean it?” 

On any other day, Jared has this really great smile, but right now, his grin is hesitant at best. Jensen can't blame him, he hasn't really given Jared a reason to have much faith in him to this point. “Yeah, I do.”

Jared clears his throat and leans forward, arms resting on the table. “We gonna start talkin' about the shit that bugs you instead of you distractin' me with your dick every time you wanna avoid a conflict?”

Sucking air through his teeth, Jensen takes the low blow for what it is, brutal honesty. That's exactly what he's been doing and Jared has known it from the beginning. “I don't know, man. That sounds like relationship stuff. That what this is gonna be?”

“That's what it already is, you oblivious fuckhead,” Jared finally smiles, standing and stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders pop. 

Jensen gets a little distracted by that thin strip of tanned skin between his waistband and the hem of his shirt, so it takes him a second to respond. Shaking his head, he meets Jared's eye and finds him smirking knowingly. “Yeah. Okay. Yes, we'll work shit out. Talk about our feelings and cuddle after we make love. Whatever.”

With a belly laugh that seems to shake the walls, Jared comes around the table and wraps his sweaty arms around Jensen's shoulders, pulling him flush against his chest. His lips are warm and wet, a little acidic like the orange juice he was drinking, and Jensen can still taste the eggs. But it's Jared and it's kissing, and he's not about to pull away to complain about anything.

“I'm not moving my damn television to the other wall,” Jared whispers against his mouth between kisses. “I don't so much care if you don't like the way I fold my towels.” Another kiss, and Jensen can feel Jared's lips turning up into a smile against his mouth. “And if my video game volume pisses you off while you're trying to read, you can get the fuck over it.”

He laughs and pushes at Jared's shoulder until there's a little bit of space between them. “You smell like dirty socks,” he grumbles. “And eggs.”

“Eggs you made,” Jared reminds him.

With a groan, Jensen tilts his head back against the wall and lets his eyes drift shut for a minute. They burn, reminding him that he only slept a couple hours and today is going to be way too fucking long. “Fuck, I need a shower,” he manages to say, scrubbing a hand over his face before Jared grabs his wrist and kisses him again. “I'm gonna fall asleep on my feet here.”

“Want me to fuck you awake in the shower?” Jared grumbles against his ear, hand sliding down Jensen's chest to toy with the drawstring on his pants.

Jensen bats his hand away and pushes off the wall, managing to slip out from under Jared's touch before Jared can pull him back. “You don't like morning sex,” he says, heading for the stairs with a vague hope that he doesn't fall asleep halfway up and fall back down again.

Within seconds, Jared is at his back, hands steadying Jensen's hips as they make their way toward the bedroom. “Compromise is the word of the day,” he whispers against Jensen's neck, nipping at the warm skin with his teeth. “You made me breakfast, I'll suck your dick. See how this works?”

A warm shudder runs down Jensen's spine as he lets Jared strip him out of his t-shirt in the hall. He's naked by the time they reach the bathroom door and he figures that maybe compromise isn't so bad after all. 

He lets Jared start the water and looks at the way the towels are folded on the top of the counter. There are three – one for Jensen, one for Jared, and one for Jared's hair – and all of them are folded differently. Jensen's first response is to reach for them, to fix them, but Jared grabs his arm and pulls him under the warm, welcoming spray before he can. It's probably for the best anyway. 

Besides, he's got all the time in the world to teach Jared how to start doing things his way.


End file.
